


Finale

by Sinistretoile



Series: Partners [12]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Gun Violence, Honeymoon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marriage, Non-Graphic Violence, Rough Sex, Shooting Guns, Strangulation, The End, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything ties up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finale

Cars lined the streets for the reopening of Murderer's Row. The fire marshal watched the head count. The tables were full, as was the bar and the dance floor. Swinging big band music blared from the club’s sound system. Alcohol flowed and the air was vibrant with celebration and joviality.  
Thomas flung Amelia out then drew her back and spun her around. She laughed as he kissed her throat. The light glinted off the stunning diamond and black diamond band on her left ring finger. The music died as Thomas took the stage, pulling her up with him.  
“As most of you know, I’m not one to take the stage. But tonight is a special night. Not only are we reopening my grandfather’s club, my club, we’re celebrating the legal union of my lovely queen, Amelia and I.” A hushed gasp went the crowd then a cheer. Thomas, clearly in his cups, drew his bride against his body then dipped her backwards and kissed the hell out of her for all to see. He uprighted her, crowd forgotten as she touched his face with both hands on his cheeks. They only had eyes for each other as they backed off the stage.  
Thomas kissed her almost savagely as he walked her backwards to his office, pulling his blazer off as they went. He kicked the door closed behind him, dropping the blazer to the floor. He shrugged out of the suspenders. Amelia returned his kisses hungrily as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her nails raked his chest. He grunted and dug his fingers into her ass cheeks and lifted her onto the desk.  
“My love.”  
“Yes.”  
He kissed her throat, scraping his teeth along the pulse and making her gasp. “Ma reine.”  
“Yes, mon chevalier.” He spread her legs wide, the backs of his fingers brushed up her thigh. Those fingers slipped into the crotch of her panties and pulled. A single, sharp, hard jerk that pinched her hips before the fabric ripped. She unbuttoned and unzipped his dress slacks, reaching in to free his hardening cock from the confines of his boxers. They breathed heavily in each other’s mouths, tongues and teeth tasting one another.  
Thomas jerked her to the edge of the desk as she lined the head of his cock up with her cunt. “My wife.”  
“My husband!” She shouted as he thrust forward and up, filling her almost completely. He pulled his hips back then slammed forward. Her ankles locked over his ass. She held onto him and just let him go, whimpering into his ear. His back undulated with each deep, hard thrust. She dug her nails into his flexing shoulders.  
Thomas worked a hand between them and rubbed her clit in circle. Her keening grew louder. With a grunt of effort, he lifted her up and turned them around so that he sat on the desk. Amelia braced her knees on the edge of the desk. Her gasping moans stringing together as he lifted her up and down on his cock. The head of him hit her sweet spot over and over until her cunt clamped around him and her thighs on his lap.  
Her mouth met his and her fingers twisted into the short hair on the back of his head. Their tongues tangled. She took over riding him and all he could was hold on. His groans became barking moans as the pressure built. He yanked her head back by her hair so he could look in her eyes as he came.

Amelia lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Her fingers absently ran through Thomas’s hair where his head rested on the edge of the couch. He too stared at the ceiling. The ice clinked in the glass as the whiskey warmed it. He brought it to his lips. The temperate liquor filled his mouth, washing away the taste of her cum.  
“What time does the jet leave?”  
“Around 10 in the morning.”  
“That doesn’t give us very much leeway.”  
“Everything is in place?”  
He hummed in ascent. “Except for us.”  
“How much longer do we have?”  
“Not much, consummating our marriage took a while.” She grinned and playfully tugged on his hair.  
“And christening your office. Two birds, one stone.”  
He rolled up onto his knees and leaned over her. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten. He found an equal, a true partner. She’d grown up in this world just like he had. She knew the risks, the ins and outs. And she had the ruthlessness and ambition for them to rule alongside one another. He kissed her tenderly, tasting himself, the whiskey and the cigar in her mouth. He breathed in through his nose to quell the sudden spike of desire.  
“You don’t have to do this. I can meet you on the tarmac.”  
“You’re kidding, right? We’ve been through this before, Thomas. Partners, 100%. You’re not going to leave me wondering all night, wringing my hands like some fragile flower.”  
“Alright, Mrs. Hiddleston.”  
“I haven’t decided if I’m hyphenating or not.”  
“I would prefer not, but I’ll understand.”  
“Not it is.” He blinked. “Had you demanded that I not, I would have.” He nodded, understanding. She wouldn’t tolerate him being a controlling prick. If he stifled her, her freedom, her authority, there would be hell to pay. He knew that. He wasn’t going into this blind or ignorant.  
The ‘lieutenants’ of Thomas and Amelia’s organization had hand-picked trustworthy men for tonight’s blitz. The carnage was systematic and simultaneous. Like a coordinated military strike, ‘vandals’ busted the windows and fire bombed every single business of Mossimo Carrico and Vince Milano. The London night became day in the amber glow of the flames. Entire families were taken out in a genocidal cleansing of London. The streets ran red with Italian blood. And sirens filled the night.  
Mick, Eddie, Thomas and Amelia took Carrico’s home. Dispatching with guards, king and queen waited in his office while their most trusted men disappeared to do horrible things. On cue, the phone began to ring. The door swung open, Carrico grumbled in Italian. He took in the silhouetted pair.  
“What the fuck is this?”  
“And ending.” Thomas sat in the big man’s chair. His demeanor made the Italian think of James Bond. Amelia perched on the desk. Despite the gravity of the situation, he appreciated her black cat suit and her hair pulled up into a French twist. The phone continued to ring.  
“Answer, Mossimo.”  
The big man picked up the phone. “Hello?”  
“Mossimo Carrico?”  
“Yea.”  
“This is Inspector Winthrop. I hate to call at this late hour but I have bad news.”  
“Is there any other news at this hour?” Mossimo listened to the officer speak. “Uh-huh.” He glared at Thomas. “Of course, good night, inspector.” The brute dropped the receiver into its cradle. “So I ask again, what the fuck is this?”  
“An ending, Carrico. There is no truce this time.”  
“A cleansing, of blood and fire.” His wife’s scream was cut short upstairs.  
“You’ll pay for this. The both of you.”  
Mick and Eddie appeared in the doorway behind the Italian. “It’s done, boss.”  
“The children as well?” By children, he meant Carrico’s teenagers. They nodded.  
“I’ll fucking kill you for this.” He reached out with surprising quickness and grabbed Amelia by the throat. The trio of men shouted. Mick and Eddie drew their silenced handguns and put the barrels against his head. They didn’t want to risk hitting with Amelia with a through and through. He squeezed. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. Her vertebra ground against one another. She scratched at his forearm and face, leaving bloody trails.  
“Let her go or they won’t be able to identify you with dental records.”  
With nothing to lose, Mossimo grit his teeth and crushed his hand around her neck. Amelia squeaked before her eyes rolled back in her head, her lips turning a purplish red. Thomas ducked to the side as both Mick and Eddie pulled the trigger. The man’s head exploded into bits of bone and brain matter. The bullet from Eddie’s gun skimmed Amelia’s cheek. She sucked in air, coughing painfully as his hand relaxed in death.  
Thomas caught her as she dropped. “Amelia, are you alright?” He frowned at the bruises already blossoming on her throat. He felt around tenderly. Her color frightened him and her eyes were glazed. She blinked away some of the stars in her vision from lack of oxygen. “Ma reine, answer me, darling.”  
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Hiddleston.” She croaked then winced.  
“Don’t talk. We’ll have the Doc come to the manor.”  
“We need to leave, boss.”  
Thomas swept her up in a bridal carry and left the body of his enemy on the floor.

It would be days before all the bodies were found and accounted for, the all damage listed. They’d talked it over and there really hadn’t been another way to do things without leaving a power vacuum in the Italian infrastructure. This sent a message to anyone who wanted to war with Hiddlestons. Would they lose sleep over it? No. Would it stain their souls? Undoubtedly. And they would deal with that in time.  
Thomas closed his book as the shadow stretched across him. He looked up at his bikini-clad queen, her sun-pinked flesh glistening with sweat. “Are you going to sit and read all day?”  
“I had thought of it.”  
The wind took her hair and whipped it around like a flaming halo. “Come fuck me in the ocean, husband.”  
He grinned. “Since you asked so nicely, wife.” He tossed the book into the sand and jumped up. She shrieked in delighted fright and ran down the beach, kicking up sand with Thomas hot on her heels.


End file.
